Calm and Calamity
by The-Music-of-hands
Summary: I regret that I didn’t protect my baby, my sister. I regret that I didn’t do anything. Instead I cried, I sobbed. A small price to pay when she was dead… My name is Naomi. And I still want to die.


Disclaimer: I DON'T own Harvest Moon; I don't even own the name. Ugh. All I own is a tiny dog and a stinky burrito.

_A/N_

_Well, _

_I thought I would try something a bit different than a romantic tragedy. So, I was listening to Halo 2 the soundtrack (The music really is good) and I suddenly started thinking about schizophrenic parents. Sometimes I have a really weird train of thought. Oh, by the way, this is in no way attached to "Serenity's Web", you know, I just thought I'd say that. I don't mean to bore you folks, so I'll get out of the way. Here's to everyone._

_The-Music-of-hands_

Calm and Calamity

_'__Momma she__ didn't do it on purpose! Momma…I swear…'_

But I did. And, I still regret it. Six damn years later, I _**still **_regret it. And I don't think that I'll ever stop…never.

I did a lot of things to make my parents mad. I broke things; I lied, cheated, screamed, and cried. Baby things, immature things, things that only a very jealous and hurt kid would do. But, that's what I was…

_**Wasn't I?**_

I was alone, a poor kid with unloving parents, with the worst life imaginable.

_**Not. **_

My life wasn't perfect, my life definitely wasn't the epitome of great, but it wasn't bad. To me now, it was just…life. To me back then, it was drama, painful, scorching, disgusting…drama. My dad was gone when I turned five. My Mom…

I don't want to talk about her. My baby sister…

_**My one regret. **_

_'Momma…Momma please…'_

My Mom had a disease. A so-call 'disease'…

She talked to herself. Mostly "Her Angel". He didn't come until _after _Dad left. I knew it was a he because she said she loved him, would always giggle when he would 'visit', she would always reach up, pulling on an invisible arm, whispering in the invisible ear. Then she would giggle more, and pretend to hit him.

_'Oh you little devil' _she would say, while grinning widely, crazily, like a _**maniac, **__'Not around the children.'_ And I would stare at her from my position on the dingy grey couch, an unknown sitcom droning on and on in the distance, while I distractedly chewed on a piece of stale un-buttered popcorn. Yep. A beautiful picture…

Two more details…

Number _One_

His name was Peter… Peter the ever loving fatherly figure that only Momma could see.

Number **two**.

Momma was pregnant, with child, a Prego, whatever you want to call it. And she denied that it had anything to do with my father or anyone else, it was all Peters child, and the entire baby was his entirely. I was turning nine years old, when she went into labor. Her water, a rusty smelling disgusting thing, broke all over my pink sleeping beauty carpet. The one I had been bought by "Peter and Momma" last Christmas. At that time, it was a loss, but, I had yet to realize what exactly a proper loss was. I would find that out later. _**Peter **_didn't do anything, nothing, zip, zilch, Nada. I called the police; I told them in a shaky voice, MY Momma was going to have a baby. Momma sat in the ambulance, and I could tell that she was in pain. Every time I tried to tell her it was okay, every time I tried to soothe her by patting her knotted brown hair, she pushed me away, and instead… 

She would call for Peter.

I remember that. I remember that exact moment, the moment where I just stared and she groaned, crying out to this "Peter" to help her get through this, to help her give birth to "Their" child. The nurse looked at me; her eyes squinted, trying to figure me out, trying to figure me and Momma out, trying to understand. And to understand, you have to ask. She asked, she asked with a stutter in her voice. I didn't know what was wrong.

_'W- Who is Peter?'_

Of course, with a question, comes an answer. And I answered, simply, distinctly, quietly, but just loud enough for everyone within ten feet diameter could hear. 'Peter is no one.'

She stared, and understood everything. That's when she hugged me; she wept, and hugged me tight. Her bright clear tears making little streams down her face, reminding me of those Disney characters crying, perfect straight tears, keeping their beautiful looks while being sad. Yeah, it didn't last long. My Momma screamed, and that's when I heard an invisible voice whisper,

_'It's going to be a baby…'_

And the weird thing? Nobody in the ambulance was talking. Nobody was saying a word. They just rushed Momma into the hospital, a bit huge white building that smelled like too clean bathrooms. I tagged along, one person staying behind, silently ushering me in through spotless clear glass doors. She gave me a Popsicle, strawberry flavored, and sat with me for eight long hours. Eight hours of whirring com lines, chilled sterilized waiting rooms, rushing medical carts, scratchy couch cushions and boring celebrity magazines. Eight hours of hell. And, when Momma wanted to see me, I was pissed. Because, all she did was stare, and giggle, and present the baby to the cold air, showing her off to some invisible entity that was supposedly there. Peter.

For the first time in my life, I felt…

Hate.

Hate for her, hate for someone that wasn't there, hate for myself because this "so-called" Peter, was better than me. My Baby sister was beautiful. Her head was a reddish color, her eyes big, and almond shaped, like my **real **Daddy. Her little face, all screwed up in confusion and fascination, her hands, tiny, so tiny, and groped along until they found my finger. Her skin wasn't hot, and it wasn't cold. More like a comfortable lukewarm, something, that even though I had no idea who she was, I loved. I loved her, and, she was the only thing in my sight as I stood there, her tiny hand enveloping one of my fingers. Then, with a cry of rage, Momma slapped my hand, and drew my sister close to her chest, as if I was some kind of danger, some kind of disease. I cried, so hard, so deep. I fell to the cold tile floor, sobbing hard, wracking sobs, spilling wails that sounded like death, the tears strangling what air I had left. What life I had left. Momma had taken the only thing, the only source of light I had.

_'Momma!'_

The nurse took me back to that waiting room, and just sat there with me, rubbing my back, and I fell asleep, into a nightmare. Two days later, Momma was ready to come back home with the baby, it was just her, the baby, and peter, one small and happy family. I don't know where I fit in anymore. I just simply, wasn't there. I was just me, the girl, I, Me, and Myself…

Monotonous, still, clear, an object…

I was just…there.

One day, After Momma had brought the baby home; I sat there, looking at her. And, she was so incredibly calm as I picked her up, so calm when I brought her over to my bed, so calm when I kissed her goodnight and drew the blankets up to our necks. Protecting the both of us from nightmares, protecting the both of us from Peter…

I decided to name her, because all Momma called her was Sarah, which meant princess. My sister needed a better name, a prettier name, an angel's name. So, I named her Serenity. I named her after the wind, after the soft lulls of piano music, after the calm whooshes of the stream behind our house. And I protected her.

That protection didn't last long.

I turned ten. And everything, turned around.

Momma started locking me up, started getting worse. She would pull out her hair, scratch at her face where sores would surface three hours later. Then, she would shove someone out the door, shouting after them, tears leaking out of her red rimmed eyes._ 'I never want to see you again, just go, just go, just go, just go…'_

Then, I would pull her close, and she would sob, holding me and Serenity as if she would never let go. Whispering quietly in my ear, her dull greasy hair tickled the skin of my arm and she rocked on the floor. _'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, please, forgive me, I didn't mean to let you go…'_

Then, she would practically throw us down, open the door and start sobbing again, as if someone was there, holding flowers for her, arms opened in an open embrace._ 'I always knew you would come back!'_

Then she would smile, and walk to her bedroom, talking in quiet whispers to him, her angel, my demon, Peter.

Serenity grew up, I didn't even bother to go to school anymore, I just stayed home, cooked the best as I could, and tried to win back the mother I used to have. I remember, that one day…

Serenity had started walking, and one day she decided to break one of Momma's glass roses that Daddy had given her so long ago. I tried to clean it up, but…

It wasn't enough.

She walked in, dropped her purse, and ran straight towards me and Serenity, eyes full of something I had never seen before, something so dull and angry, something so lifeless and glassy. She wasn't my Mother anymore, she was just a lady in our house, just a lady, just another somebody, she just…

Existed…

She picked Serenity up, and I remember tearing at her shirt, hitting her with my fists. She ignored me, and I looked on, crying, sobbing, shrieking, and screaming. Serenity screamed too, she screamed so loud, so hard, I thought she would burst. Momma glared her, and then I knew what she was going to do.

_'Momma she didn't do it on purpose! Momma…I swear…'_

She didn't listen, just stared at the baby, wriggling in her arms, helpless and bawling.

_'Momma…Momma please…'_

I begged and pleaded so hard. I just fell onto the floor, covering my eyes with my too skinny fingers, peeking through them. And then, with one scream, she threw the baby, just kind of slammed her against the wall, and just kind of tossed her like you tossed an empty package or an empty box into the garbage. She threw her away. And then without one single word, she walked back to her room, back to loneliness, back to the dream, back to Peter.

_'Momma!'_

I screamed so long, so long that I couldn't scream anymore. And when I couldn't, I puked all over, and cried, and sobbed, and cried and sobbed. While she was limp, just leaning against the wall and the floor, eyes still open, face still red from crying, her clothes rumpled...And she was calm.

Calm as death.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to die.

_X_

But I didn't, because, I'm still here.

I ran away, and, I never saw any of them again. Serenity, Momma, Daddy…or Peter. I never saw him. I regret that I didn't protect her, I didn't' do anything. I cried, I sobbed.

A small price to pay when**_she_ **was dead…

My name is Naomi.

And I still want to die.


End file.
